


Cooked Goose

by astrangerfate, orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Other, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-26
Updated: 2008-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerfate/pseuds/astrangerfate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another spanking fic. Bordering on crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cooked Goose

**Author's Note:**

> Spanking of an adult Winchester and a supernatural being that still has me wondering what the hell I was thinking.

“Just a few more questions for you, Miss Campbell,” Sam said apologetically. The pale woman on the hospital bed gave an understanding smile.

“Is this really necessary?” her fiancée broke in harshly.

“It’s all right, David,” she said. “Mr. Montgomery is just trying to do his job. As soon as we know what’s wrong …” she trailed off, smiling tiredly at Sam. “Please continue, Mr. Montgomery.”

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. “Can you tell me what you remember from the day before your…illness began?” he asked.

“Oh, well, it was so busy,” she said, pursing her lips. “We had the breakfast at ten, and then us girls went to get our nails done at that place on Twelfth.” She glanced down at her fingers, a perfect French manicure. “After that I decided to go for a walk before the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. I took Disco—that’s my dog, he’s a cocker spaniel—and we went for a quick run around the block.” She smiled then. “I rescued a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the rain earlier. We took it back inside and dried it off—at first I thought it had a broken leg, but then it got away just fine when we let it back out. And so then we went to the rehearsal, and…” She choked up.

Her fiancée reached out a hand and put it on her shoulder. “It’s okay, baby girl,” he said softly, glaring at Sam.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, wiping her eyes with another sad smile. “It’s just that everything was so…perfect. And David dropped me off at my apartment early so that I could get a good night’s sleep. But I didn’t, I had nightmares all night and when I woke up I was…like this.” She indicated her face, still drawn from the inexplicable blood loss.

“Could you tell me what the nightmares were about?” Sam asked.

“The nightmares?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, just…bride-to-be jitters, I imagine,” she said, casting a nervous glance at her fiancée. “You know, I dreamed that it was time for the wedding and I’d forgotten to bring my dress to the church….”

She was lying. “Right,” said Sam, standing up. “I’m sorry for troubling you. Thank you so much for your time. Miss Campbell, Mr. Denison.” He nodded briefly, and they nodded back as he left the room.

He waited until he was outside of the hospital before he called Dean. “So what have you got?” he asked. “Because that was one hell of a waste of time.”

“No signs of forced entry, the apartment’s on the fourth floor—I’m just not seeing it, Sammy. Vampires wouldn’t have left her alive, either. But there’s no sulfur, no EMF, no violent deaths connected with the building…. I’m thinking maybe we got this one wrong. Maybe it’s, you know, something in the water here. Or something.”

Sam shook his head. “No, Dean. Two women in the same town suffering dramatic blood loss the night before their weddings? Something’s going on. I just don’t know what. If she had a wound, it was small enough that it didn’t raise any eyebrows on her medical examination. Maybe a small puncture, I couldn’t see anything either, but it was definitely something.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said unenthusiastically. “But damned if I know.”

“Yeah, me either,” said Sam. “You’ve swept the whole place?”

“Pretty much. I just need to take a look out back.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go do that. I’ll pick you up in a few minutes, maybe grab dinner first, and then we’ll debrief.”

Sam flipped his phone shut and tried to remember whether he’d seen any vaguely appealing dining options on the way to the hospital. As he headed for the Impala, his phone starting ringing.

“Hello?”

It was Dean. “Sam. Get your ass over here, right now. You have to see this.”

***

“It’s…a footprint,” Sam said flatly, staring at the impression that had frozen in the caked mud.

“Right,” Dean said, obviously pleased. “But where’s the other one?”

“There…isn’t one.”

“Wrong. Look again.”

Sam squinted at the ground. The left footprints were clearly visible, large enough that they almost certainly belonged to a man. They followed a straight line by the edge of the apartment complex. And yet there were no corresponding right footprints, although the mud covered a wide enough expanse that no reasonable man could walk that long on one leg….

“There are those weird dents,” he said, bending down to get a closer look. “Like…flat impressions. They’re small, curved, almost like…”

“Webbed feet. Of a goose, maybe?” Dean suggested.

Sam blinked. “A giant goose?” he asked skeptically. “I’m not following you.”

“Here.” Dean produced John’s journal, flipping through sections until he landed on the page he was looking for. “I didn’t know what it meant either until I read that. But I think this is what we’re after.” He handed the book to Sam.

“Which section?” Sam asked, glancing at the page.

“Czoda... Cosa…. Hell, I can’t pronounce it. The first one.”

_**Csodacsirke.** The most common form of the Hungarian Lidérc…can assume the form of a chicken or human being, but one leg always has a goose's foot…attaches itself to people to become their lover. If the owner is a woman, the being shifts into a man, but instead of pleasuring the woman, it fondles her, sits on her body, and sometimes sucks her blood, making her weak and sick…_

“A goose’s foot?” Sam said in disbelief. They’d been on some weird hunts, but he was having a hard time believing Dean was serious. _I mean, weren’t there demons, or vampires, or… something out there to hunt?_ “What sort of thing is this, anyway?”

“One sucking out the blood of young girls,” Dean said promptly. “Which means we kill it.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t give directions to actually kill it,” Sam pointed out. “You capture it by stuffing it in a hollow tree…then what?”

“I figure we torch the tree,” Dean said, matter-of-fact. “We should probably check with Bobby first, just to be on the safe side.”

Sam nodded. “So…how do we get it in a hollow tree in the first place?” he asked reasonably.

“We find it and chase it,” Dean grinned. “Fun, huh?”

“Yeah, a wild goose chase. Sounds great,” Sam said with resignation.

***

“So, assuming it stays within the same four-mile radius, our best hope of catching it will be in this strip of land behind the Twin Pines Apartments,” Sam finished. “It’s a narrow wooded area that’s just behind the main road from downtown and it’s bound to have a hollow tree.”

Dean nodded his agreement. “So I checked with some church offices, did a little magic with a Methodist named Jeannie and I’m thinking that he’ll probably track the bride home from the rehearsal at West End United Way tomorrow.”

Sam glanced down at the map. “What street is the church on?” he asked.

“It’s on Elysian Fields. The bride lives out on Watsonwood, which is just past Twin Pines, I think.”

“Great.” Sam folded the map. “So I’m thinking we go find our tree and get some things set up…”

“Douse her with lighter fluid, fill ’er up with some salt…”

“And just hope that our happy couple gets stalked by a featherless chicken,” Sam finished. It was times like this when he just wanted to do the job and get the hell out of town.

***

The wedding rehearsal ended in the early afternoon. The bride drove off, giving her future husband a quick peck on the cheek. Dean followed as inconspicuously as he could in the Impala, while they both scanned the area for a small bird, running or flying in low, quick bursts. They were almost past the apartment complex when it appeared on the side of the road, and Dean slammed on the brakes.

“Out of the car, Sam, now!” he barked, but Sam was already scrambling out, wondering how the hell he was going to chase a chicken deeper into the woods without tipping it off that there was a trap.

 _Thank God it’s still broad daylight,_ he thought in relief. Ahead of him, a sudden rippling of movement caught his eye, and he watched as the tiny bird grew into a man, allowing it to move faster. Sam increased his speed to match the new pace, pretending to be running as fast as he could. At this rate, the Lidérc didn’t seem to realize that Sam was pursuing it to a definite purpose, chasing it towards the hollowed-out tree.

He recognized the orange markers Dean had put up earlier, put his long legs to good use and dived, catching the spirit around the legs. The force of the tackle brought them both to the ground, and Sam gripped the webbed foot tight as the Lidérc shifted again into the featherless bird.

“Dean!” he bellowed, clapping both hands around the small body and preventing an escape.

“I’m right here!” Dean yelled. Sam held the squirming chicken in place as his brother ran up, shoving a wooden box under Sam’s hands. Sam dropped the bird into the prison, closing the lid over the creature.

“Dude, I’m parked in a tow-away zone,” Dean panted, passing the box and a book of matches over to Sam. “If you could just take care of this so I can move the car—”

“Not a problem.” Sam found the hollowed-out tree they’d selected earlier, following the orange paint. The box fit perfectly, deformed bird and all, and as he struck the match and dropped it into the knothole, he couldn’t help feeling smug that the day had gone so well. They would be on the road again, and maybe clear the state before dinner if they hurried. It wasn’t often that he ended a hunt with nothing more than a scraped knee.

***

And it probably would have stayed that way, too, if Dean hadn’t felt the need to turn the television on as they were packing up to get on the road again.

Sam was collecting toothbrushes and shaving cream from the bathroom when he heard his brother bellowing his name.

“Sam! Get in here!”

There was no mistaking the anger in Dean’s voice, and Sam instinctively jumped to obey the order.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing into the bedroom with toothbrushes still in his hands.

“Listen to this,” Dean said, gesturing at the television. Sam turned to face live footage of Twin Pines Apartments, and what had once been a wooded area behind the building.

“Oh, my God,” he breathed, staring at the charred circle and surrounding fire trucks.

_“However, a representative from the local police department has stated anonymously that traces of lighter fluid were found, indicating a deliberate act of arson.”_

Sam’s jaw dropped in horror as he watched the footage of the burnt-out trees, the fire being brought under control with jets of water that met the flames with an angry hiss of steam. “Fuck…you don’t think that I…” he started, looking up into Dean’s angry face.

“I don’t know, Sam, you know anyone else who was out in the woods a couple of hours ago with matches and lighter fluid?” The sarcasm in Dean’s voice made his blood run cold.

“I—oh, God, Dean.” Sam’s head dropped to rest heavily in his hands. “I could have sworn it died out, really…”

“Yeah, well, I’m guessing you were wrong,” Dean returned.

Sam felt a few hot tears pricking his eyes. “I—I didn’t mean to…” he said hoarsely.

Dean snorted. “Well, that’s a relief,” he said. “Good to know you weren’t _planning_ on setting the whole place on fire just to make sure we got the damn thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, the words feeling vastly inadequate. He shook his head, still shocked at the idea that he’d let a fire get out of control. “I never meant to—I must have—” He stopped, unsure of how to proceed and aware that his voice was wavering.

“You must have left before you were sure the embers were all dead,” Dean finished, the sarcasm gone from his voice. He was all business now, and Sam froze.

“You left a job incomplete,” Dean continued. “You were _unbelievably_ careless, Sam, and you know better than that.”

“It was an accident, Dean!” Sam protested, backing up as Dean took a step closer. The determined look in his brother’s eyes was much too close for comfort, and he wanted to put as much distance (and maybe a bathroom door) between the two of them as he possibly could, before Dean decided to—

“How would you feel if that fire had spread to the apartment complex?” Dean asked, grabbing his upper arm.

“Bad! I mean, I do feel bad, but—Dean!” Sam yelped, trying to shake his arm free as Dean tugged him back over to the bed. He dropped the toothbrushes on the floor to fight his brother, trying to wring his way loose. “Dean, stop! Let me go! No, seriously!” he pleaded.

“No can do, Sammy,” Dean replied easily, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “You can’t honestly say you don’t deserve this.”

“Dean, I’m not ten anymore, okay?” Sam demanded, aware that his voice was way too loud, and _oh, God, how thin were the walls in this hotel?_

“Could have fooled me: leaving a job before you finished, not checking basic safety parameters…” With those words, Dean flipped Sam over his knees, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Sam was _way_ too tall to fit over Dean’s lap anymore, let alone get spanked.

“I said I was sorry! It was an accident! Seriously, Dean, it won’t happen again!” Sam could hear the whine in his voice and hated it. His brain was trying to tell him to _calm down, it’s a spanking, how bad can it be?_ but his legs were kicking and he was squirming frantically against Dean’s restraining left arm, panicked memories flooding back to him.

Dean landed the first swat square in the middle of his ass. “Settle down, Sam, or we can do this bare,” he threatened, and Sam knew that he meant it.

“I hate you,” he spat out without thinking, and Dean clicked his tongue.

“Ohhh, I wouldn’t have done that, Sammy,” he said bluntly, before reaching his hand underneath Sam’s waist to unbutton his jeans.

Sam went wild over his lap, bucking and jerking and almost rolling out of Dean’s loosened grip—almost but not quite. Dean’s arm tightened once more and his wiggles only helped his jeans and underwear slide down to his knees.

“Dean, stop it!” he tried one last time, before Dean’s palm cracked across his newly bared skin. The sound echoed throughout the motel room, and Sam hung his head in shame, absolute certain that everyone in the building could hear it. _This can’t be happening,_ he thought desperately, feeling the sting across his bottom. _I’ll just think of something else, just…._

“What we do is dangerous enough without being careless, Sam,” Dean lectured, his voice breaking across Sam’s thoughts and bringing him sharply back to the hand descending on his ass. “You don’t mess around, even with something like a salt and burn. An arson investigation in the last thing we need. And besides, people could have been hurt, Sam! I don’t care how much of a hurry you’re in, you take the time to finish the job and tie up all the loose ends!”

“I know!” Sam protested, the first of the tears appearing in his eyes from embarrassment alone. “I know, Dean, and I’m really sorry—”

“I damn well hope so.” Dean’s palm came down hard and fast, sharps swats designed to produce the maximum burn as quickly as possible, and Sam felt the sting in his ass intensify. The hot tears slipped easily out of his eyes and down his face, even as he kept his mouth clamped shut. He squeezed his hands into fists, willing himself to just _stay quiet_ until it was over, but Dean didn’t seem to be slowing down and _shit,_ how was this even happening? The spanking went on, and his entire ass was on fire. _Kind of like those trees. Shit._

“I’m sorry,” Sam choked again, not really caring anymore that he was over his brother’s knee getting spanked like a little kid. He was sorry, and he just _really_ wanted it to be over.

Dean smacked his upper thigh. “So next time, you’re gonna make sure the fire is _completely_ out before you decide to take off?”

“Yes!”

He landed a blow on the other thigh. “And you’re going to keep your head on the job?”

“Ouch! Yes! I promise,” Sam insisted.

“Attaboy.” Dean released him and Sam jumped up and turned away, pulling his jeans back to his waist and scrubbing his hand angrily across his wet eyes.

“Dean, I really am sorry,” he said, looking up earnestly.

“I know,” Dean returned, clapping him reassuringly on the shoulder. “It’s over now. No one was hurt. We’re good, Sammy.” Sam nodded, drawing a few steadying breaths.

Dean squeezed his shoulder and grinned. “So come on, get the crap from the bathroom and let’s hit the road.”

“I’m gonna need a new toothbrush,” Sam said, with a hint of petulance, picking up the one he’d dropped with distaste.

“Nag, nag, nag,” Dean teased.

Sam glared, but he hurried into the bathroom, waiting until he was out of sight to reach behind and rub his hot bottom through his fabric of his jeans.

Wherever they were headed next, it was going to be a long drive.


End file.
